


It Was Beautiful Downhill

by AmateurScribes



Series: Search for Ambrosia [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alien Huggins, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Backstory, Conspiracy, Freelancer Ruins Everything, Ghost Grif, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Memory Loss, Pre-Apocalypse, Romance, might as well get those out now since the first one kinda taps into those, the first half takes place in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 07:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Things were beginning to look up for him and Grif, with the both of them now having a steady income and the prospects for a happy future.But then Grif gets a 'promotion' and suddenly everything isn't beginning to look up at all. It's beginning to go all downhill.





	It Was Beautiful Downhill

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited that I was able to get another part done! I'm seriously super stoked to do more of this AU and to just tell this story and I just, wow! Once again this is un-Beta'd so all mistakes are mine! I hope you guys enjoy reading.

Simmons is tapping his fingers rhythmically against the table, waiting for the apartment door to open. He was waiting for Grif to come back from his job interview, and while he knew that these things took time, he couldn't help but look up at the clock periodically, waiting for him to get home.

It was starting to get late, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and he didn't want to say that he was worried about Grif walking home at night- that would imply that they lived in a bad neighborhood, but they didn't- but he couldn't help but worry.

He tried to get himself to calm down, Grif was probably fine. He would come home soon, and then Simmons could pry out of him how the interview went, and then he could heat up the leftovers from the dinner Simmons had to have alone.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggled, and then it opened, revealing his tired boyfriend whose tie had been loosened likely on the way home.

"Grif!" he chirped, getting out of his seat to meet him halfway. "How'd it go?"

"Good, I think," Grif huffed. "Hopefully, I'll be getting a call sometime soon, but you know how these things go."

"Of course," he looked to the side, a small frown on his face.

Grif had been applying to a lot of jobs recently, with no results. Simmons was really hoping that this could be the one because he knew with every dismissal Grif felt more and more like he was just taking advantage of him. Simmons had a stable income, working for a respectable accountant firm, and while he had no problem paying the bills for the apartment, he knew that Grif wanted to provide as well.

He'd continue hoping, because after all- maybe this time the fates would give Grif a better deck of cards in life.

"There's some food waiting for you in the microwave," Simmons gestured.

"Thanks," Grif sighed. "I could really use it."

Grif lumbered over to the microwave, setting the timer, and he leaned against the counter, just soaking in the minute of rest.

"Was it really going that badly?" he couldn't help but ask. He's never seen Grif look like this after an interview.

"No that's not it," Grif waved his hand nonchalantly. "It went about as well as it could go. What's really got me bothered is that- you know how you dropped me off at that office? Turns out that, that wasn't the real place for the interview."

"I got the address wrong? Oh my God, I'm sorry," he apologized, eyes wide and horrified. He was so sure that he dropped him off at the right place- he had checked, triple checked even, to make sure that he was putting the right address in the GPS.

"No, no, it's fine," Grif said quickly. "You dropped me off at the right place- they just, fuck this sounds suspicious, they just sent a car to bring me to a more discrete location is all."

"Discrete location? For what purpose?" Simmons felt confused, it was supposed to be a simple delivery job.

"Beats me," Grif shrugged. The microwave beeped, so he turned around and retrieved his plate, bringing it to the table so that he could sit down. "I'm just as confused as you are."

"I just find this whole thing strange," Simmons sighed. "I've never heard of this freelancing company before."

"Maybe you've never heard of it because it's just called Freelancer," Grif laughed. "I can see where you're coming from though, it seems like they've just popped out of nowhere, but hey if it gets me a job who am I to complain?"

"True," he rested his head on his hand, the cool skin bringing immediate relief to his cheek.

They made small talk after that, and it was just as Simmons was about to remind Grif of the wedding they had been invited to- something he was secretly envious about, hiding from his boyfriend his own dreams to make the two of them more official- when the phone rang.

Getting up, Grif answered with a simple, "Hello? This is Dexter speaking."

Simmons couldn't hear the other speaker, but he saw the way Grif's eyes widened in shock.

"I- yes of course," Grif said. "I'll be there. Thank you so much for this opportunity. Yes, of course. Have a good night."

Placing the phone on the receiver, Grif turned to Simmons, shell-shocked as he whispered, "I got the job."

"You did? That's great!" a smile blossomed across his face, but he couldn't help but ask, "They made their decision quickly didn't they?"

"I can't believe I got the job," Grif settled down on the couch, shoulders slouching in relief, as he placed a hand over his heart. "I'm just- sorry I need a minute."

Simmons joined him on the couch, hugging him from the side, very much proud of his boyfriend.

This was good- great even! This was exactly what they were hoping for- so scared that it wouldn't happen, that it'd just be another disappointment in a long list of failed attempts.

But he couldn't help but feel somewhat cautious. He couldn't help his mind from running away from him, he just kept thinking about how they wanted the interview conducted in a discrete location.

It was probably nothing anyway.

* * *

It'd been over half a year since Grif had gotten that job as a delivery truck driver for that company. Since then Simmons had been progressively seen less and less of him.

Apparently, he had the night shift, driving all night long well into the early hours of the morning. When Simmons woke up, he'd shuffle into their bedroom to collapse onto the bed, hardly changing out of his uniform. With a soft huff, Simmons would leave the house feeling bitter that he wasn't able to share breakfast with him anymore. And so Grif would sleep for a majority of the day, and by the time Simmons got home, they'd only have a few hours to themselves before Grif had to leave for his shift.

He'd complain more, but he knew that this job meant a lot to Grif. Finally, he was able to pay for the bills with Simmons- he could take him out on more date nights without feeling guilty that Simmons would have to pay more than half. At one point, Grif had told him that it felt like he finally had his feet beneath him, that he felt more secure in life now that he knew he could hold a job.

And Simmons could see the changes too, he could see the way Grif walked with his back straightened, a more confident composure to his walk. He certainly seemed much happier, and Simmons could never fault him for that.

Plus, the pay was apparently great. They hadn't yet set up a shared bank account, but they were transparent with what they were getting paid, and Grif admitted that he was putting some money aside for something, but he refused to reveal just for what.

And Simmons- he didn't want to hope too much.

They were out walking, coming back from a movie on one of Grif's off days. With no work to whisk him away, they spent the night walking through one of the smaller and less popular parks. There was one, maybe three other people in the park, one jogger with headphones nestled in their ears, another a woman walking her dog, and the last an artist who was sketching lightly the way the trees tilted ever so slightly towards each other, creating a path adorned with flowers and fallen crisp leaves as the trees shed their masks to reveal to each other their bare selves in the midst of the oncoming winter.

It was quiet and serene, and Grif's hand left his grasp, as he turned towards him, a nervous look to his face.

"Simmons," Grif started, pausing to lick his lips ever so slightly. "I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

His heart started to flutter against his chest in a soft caress, and he didn't dare to hope, but his mind ran wild, a locomotive that wouldn't stop.

"We've been together for a very long time, and I know I've been a bit of a slouch in the beginning, but you didn't dump me even after we moved in and I guess that has to count for something so-" he coughed, bringing a hand to clasp tightly to the back of his neck. "Fuck, this isn't coming out the way I wanted it to. Let me start over."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small plush box, and his heart stopped at the sight of it.

"I'm not gonna get down on one knee, because this isn't some cheesy rom-com, but I just want you to know that you're probably the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and you would literally make me the happiest person alive if you said yes," Grif opened the box, revealing a small gold band, with one golden topaz gem in the middle- it caught on the light of the street lamp fixture, and even with what little light available, it was quite possibly the most beautiful ring Simmons has ever seen. "Will you marry me, Dick?"

Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he felt so unbelievably happy, because he had hoped and even despite all his fears, one of the things he wanted the most had come true, and he never thought that happily ever after could happen to people like him- but they did, they really did.

"Of course," Simmons lounged forward and hugged him as hard as he could. "Of course, Dex."

He could feel Grif's surprise, before his arms wrapped around him, strong and secure, and they stood that way for what felt like forever, pulling apart so that Simmons could put on the ring. With the light as his guide, he could see the engraved, 'To My Kissass' on the inside, and he couldn't help but laugh.

That was just his Dex alright.

* * *

Planning a wedding was harder than he thought it would be. Much harder.

There were so many things to think about- flowers, halls, the venue, the cake- but most importantly the budget. They both made a modest amount, and they had both agreed that the would wait until they had enough money saved before they held the wedding. But he wouldn't be himself if he didn't plan everything ahead of time, just so that when they did have the money, it would be quick and efficient.

He hoped it wouldn't take years, and he didn't think it would, but he was willing to wait and so was Grif.

Until one day, Grif came back from his shift and instead of going straight to bed, he actually sat down at the table with Simmons for breakfast.

"I'm being promoted," he started, not even bothering to look at the food placed on his plate.

"Promoted?" he settled down his fork as he looked at his fiance. "Like a raise?"

"No- well yes," Grif said, gesturing with his hands. "I'm getting a raise- a huge raise, it's- it's unbelievable how much money I'm going to make now."

Leaning forward, he asked, "How much money are we talking here?"

"I'm basically getting paid the same amount as a government worker, except doing the same exact thing as normal," Grif shook his head. "It's- it's more than I could have asked for. The salary difference is in the thousands."

"But surely you're doing something different to cause the raise," Simmons said. "Not that I'm complaining because, wow."

"I've apparently been reassigned," here Grif looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. "Freelancer has... subsections, smaller projects that act individually of each other. I don't know much about any of the others, but all I know is that I've been asked to be the head driver for their Cosmic Powers project."

"Cosmic Powers?" he felt his eyebrows raise at that.

Grif shrugged, "I think it's just one of those pretentious names that these scientist guys like to give mundane things. It's probably just some research project into alternative energy sources, maybe something to do with space? As I said, I don't know much."

"Well this is certainly a surprise," he leaned back against his chair.

The difference in salaries, this raise, it meant that they wouldn't have to wait years.

But now he had those same old fears about the nature of this company. It all seemed too good to be true, but at the same time, it was covered in shadows that no amount of light could shed any sort of truth on. He just hoped that Grif would be safe.

Looking over to the couch, he saw a new set of clothes laying on it.

"New uniform?" he asked.

"Yeah," Grif ruffled his hair, looking back at the couch as well. "With the new reassignment I needed a new uniform apparently, and well, I apparently need to wear the symbol of the project."

"What do you mean," he asked, clearing his plate and putting it in the sink, not caring for whatever food was left over.

"Here look," Grif got up and reached for the vest. He pointed at the symbol, a three spiraled badge, and Simmons felt like he had seen it somewhere before, but he couldn't recall from what. "This is the symbol of the project, I have no idea what it is, but I figure it probably doesn't have much meaning anyway. The orange is just for my specific position, but I don't see the correlation."

He made a note to look up the symbol later on, but right now he had to go to work, and he knew that Grif needed his rest.

"I'll see you later?" he asked, almost out the door, looking back at Grif.

"Of course," his fiance said, a tired smile on his face. "Maybe I'll get better hours now, wouldn't that be a relief."

Getting back home, he was met by an empty apartment, and a note from Grif that said he was called in earlier than expected, and that he would be home around the same time as always.

Sighing, he settled against the couch and fiddled with his engagement ring.

He hadn't expected things to go quite like this.

* * *

They were cuddling on the couch, watching a movie, when Grif asked, "Do you think about kids often?"

"Like, just in general," Simmons looked at him. "Or do you mean- should we have kids?"

"Do you want kids?" Grif shifted upwards against the couch seat. "I don't know why but I've just haven't stopped thinking about kids lately. I don't want to say I've got 'baby fever' or whatever- but something similar. I don't know."

"I'll admit I haven't thought of it," he admits. "I just never saw myself as, well, a parent."

"Right, of course," Grif tries to focus back on the movie. "Sorry, I'm just being stupid. I think work's been messing with me."

"How so," he asked curiously. Due to the nature of his job, Grif can't really disclose what exactly he does specifically, but he's allowed to say some things.

"It's just- the cargo?" Grif shook his head. "I don't see it ever, but every time I'm near it, I just get these, instincts I guess? I just have the need to protect something but I don't even know what, so it just leaves me on edge for the rest of the shift."

"That's... strange," he responded, he didn't know what else to say to that.

"For all I know, it's probably some sort of side effects from the cargo, like radiation I guess," he shook his head, placing a hand against his forehead. "God I hate to do this, but I have a massive migraine, and I just really need to sleep."

"Of course," Simmons got out of his embrace, pausing the movie. He watched as Grif got up, hand still on his forehead. "Take some Advil before you go to bed. Good night."

"Night," Grif went into their room and collapsed on the bed.

Sometime that night, after Simmons had brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas and had settled into bed, he heard Grif shift next to him. He woke up groggily, his sight blurry without his glasses, and he watched as Grif got out of the bed.

Reaching for his glasses from the bedside table, he put them on and got out of the bed himself.

In the living room, Grif was pacing, going back and forth. A few times he moved as if he was going to leave the apartment before he turned back around and went back to pacing.

"Grif," he whispered. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah," Grif whispered. "Sorry to wake you. I just- I don't know why but I feel like I have to leave."

"But, you're not going to right?" he cradled his arms and drew further into himself.

"Of course I'm not leaving," Grif looked like he wanted to embrace him, but he didn't, something was stopping him.

"Will you come back to bed," Simmons wouldn't drag him, but he hoped he would by his own volition.

"In a bit, I promise, I just got to get rid of this excess energy," Grif said. "I'm sorry for waking you, I really am."

"Right," he mumbled. "See you in a bit."

So he went back to bed, and he pretended to sleep just to see how long it would take for Grif to come back to bed.

It took about an hour before Grif returned. For only thirty minutes before he had to go to work again.

* * *

It's been months, and everything had been normal. He couldn't say fine, because that would be a lie, so he could only say normal.

And for him, his new normal was Grif having constant migraines and moments of pacing in the middle of the night. It meant repetitive conversations about children that he didn't have any new answers to despite Grif's instance of bringing up the topic again. And it meant a lot of dead ends when it came to his job.

He could soundly say that he regrets ever bringing Grif to that interview. He wishes that Grif hadn't been accepted, or that one of the other applications had worked out, just anything that would have prevented him from having his current job.

Everything was falling apart and he couldn't say something without sounding selfish. Just because he didn't like what his fiance's job was didn't mean he could force him to quit or somehow get him fired. It was just his own personal strife against it.

He's just getting home when he opens the door to see Grif sitting on the couch, already in uniform, but his hat in his hands instead of on his head.

"Everything ok," he asks, just as he's been asking every day for the past few months.

"I'm about to head out," Grif says. He's looking down, and he looks guilty and remorseful. "I just wanted to say I love you. I really do. I'm sorry I've been acting so horribly."

"Grif, what are you talking about," he goes to hug him, but Grif bypasses him by heading towards the door. "It sounds like you're saying- saying goodbye."

"I-" Grif starts but doesn't finish. He doesn't deny it.

He goes to stop him from leaving, but Grif cuts him off.

"Simmons, if anything ever happens to me," he looks to the side. "I just want you to know that I love you. I love you so Goddamn much."

In a quick movement, he surges forward to grab both sides of his head in a gentle cradle, palms rough against his cheeks, and Grif's lips meet his. The kiss isn't chaste, but it's like he's a dying man and this is his chance he could possibly get to do this, so Simmons leans into the kiss and quiets his mind that continues and continues to worry.

"Goodbye," Grif whispers when they part. And he hurries out of the door, almost as if he'd never leave if he stayed another minute in the room.

"Goodbye," Simmons whispers to the closed door.

* * *

He waits. And waits. And waits some more for Grif to return.

He doesn't. Not the next morning or in the afternoon or at night.

Simmons calls and calls, but none of his calls are answered going straight to voicemail. He tried to call Freelancer, but they were currently unavailable. He sent letters, and emails and every form short of driving out to the facility, which he only now just realized was very far away, but nothing was working.

Days turned into weeks, and he's secluded himself for so long that when he actually takes a moment to turn to the outside world he's shocked at what he finds.

The town is on lockdown. He doesn't know when it happened, and when he asks his neighbor, the other man can only shrug and say, "Some chick saying she was from Freelancer said that the town's on quarantine. Apparently, they set up some sort of 'shield' to keep anyone from entering or leaving."

"What?!" he yells somewhat shocked, and he knows he looks a mess but he races out of the door and climbs into his car.

He drives to the edge of town and sees a shimmering light, glimmer against the sun. He slows his car to a stop, and steps out, looking up at the dome. Hexagons appear and disappear with the light, and walking close to it he can hear a faint electrical buzz. On the other side of the door, it looks like the grass and trees have withered, and he can't see any real form of life.

Simmons doesn't know how to feel. He only collapses against the ground, wondering when his life went to complete shit, and he looks at the sign outside of the dome.

He doesn't know how it got so old looking, but the sign welcoming people to Blood Gulch seems much more like a warning than it ever did.

* * *

"Hey, Grif," Huggins swung her feet back and forth, watching her guardian as he rested against a rotting tree. "What's that band on your finger."

"The what?" looking down at his hand, he looked surprised at the ring he wore. "I've... actually never noticed this before."

"Does it mean something," she asked curiously, she kind of wanted to wear it herself.

"Yeah, it's, uh, it usually means you're engaged to someone, for marriage- as I told you in those storybooks?" he responded, eyes still mesmerized by the ring.

"So you're engaged too," she looked excited at the prospect.

"Not that I can remember," he muttered. Clenching his fist, he reached over and pulled it off, looking on the inside he saw, 'To My Fatass.'

Three. Four. Five.

It dropped out of his hands, and he looked down sadly at it. He wasn't able to pick it up.

"Hey, Hugs, if you want you can wear it," he said, a somber note to his voice. "Just don't lose it ok?"

"Okay, Grif," she chirped. She reached over and picked it up, looking at the maroon gemstone in wonder, and pulled off one glove to slip it on, pouting when it was too big. She put the glove back on, which would make sure that it wouldn't fall off.

"We should get going," he got up. "We have to head towards- towards, um, where- where did I say we were going again?"

"Blood Gulch," she recited.

"Yeah there," he said.

Huggins reached out to grab his hand, but he moved it away before he fingers could fall through his own. "Not right now, Hugs. Give me a few minutes at best."

"Ok," she said, and she moved her hands back.

He felt bad, she really was a sweet kid. He didn't know why he felt so protective of her, and why he panicked when she went too far out of reach. Sometimes he wouldn't even recharge at night, he'd just get up and pace, with an unnatural feeling that he should be doing something more to protect her.

He doubted he'd ever really understood why.

So for the moment, he wondered on who would ever become engaged to him. And he felt a little sympathy for them.

After all, he couldn't imagine what kind of pain one would feel after the death of a loved one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure when I'll be able to get another part done but I sure hope it's soon since I have so many ideas for this AU. I hope you guys are enjoying it too!
> 
> If you want to ask any questions I'm always available on either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) or @amateurscribes (writing)!


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